Correspondent's Notebook

The language barrier in Tonga

2 May 2008

For correspondents travelling and reporting from their regions of responsibility, language is always a major barrier.

More often than not the barrier’s very simple.

Your language is different to those you want to talk to.

Sometimes you share a language.

But as Radio Australia’s Pacific Correspondent Campbell Cooney found out last week in the Pacific Kingdom of Tonga, where he was covering the national election, often even that’s not enough.

Let me start with a confession. I am fluent in only one language, english. I know a few French words, Bonjour, Sava, Au Revoir. I can understand some pidgin english, and I know how to say hello, and goodbye, in Fijian. But as I’m a correspondent for an english speaking network, I’m looking for people who can speak that language. Most times when I travel in the region it’s no problem. But last week The Pacific Kingdom of Tonga proved to be an exception.

Every sovereign nation’s proud of its customs and tradition. And its language is a big part of that. In most Pacific countries though, English is widely spoken. It’s learnt at school, and a lot of them listen and watch english language radio and television. Many Tongans, in particular the older ones are eloquent; if you were listening last week, you would have heard me talking about George, who enlightened me on the country’s attitudes towards politcal change.

But while I was there covering their national elections, the difference between what I was hoping to elicit from a question, and what I got, was massive. Take my interview with young Tongan taxi driver Lada. Before I began the interview, my conversation with Lada had been quite OK. If it hadn’t, I wouldn’t have tried to record him. But as sometimes happens, to reporters, when the microphone, or TV camera turns on, the person you think’s going to give you the view from the streets, the one the politicians don’t want to talk about, goes to jelly.

Having had no luck with Lada I then met Tupo.

I think he was saying he was happy with the makeup of the Tongan parliament. Now my frustration doesn’t mean that all of a sudden I dislike Tonga, or its citizens. But there was a good reason I was trying to speak to these people. When you’re overseas covering an issue or event, you can very easily get caught up talking to the big names, politicians, candidates and social leaders. They are an important part of any story, and are often good communicators.

But their message is weighted towards their particular cause and belief. That means its vital you speak to someone who isn’t as well connected, someone who’s affected by the decision of a country’s political leaders. Also, you’re looking for that little extra, the story that will hold you over when you get home. Often it’s one that has nothing to do with the main reason you’re there.

But last week I flew home empty handed. And let me promise you, it was from no lack of trying. I wanted to have to young Tongans about how they saw their future. I couldn’t find one who was able to explain it to me. I tried to talk to the owners of a street stall selling vegetables. Same story. And this is the best response I got from a vendor at Nuku’alofa’s wharf side fish market.

Often we, as reporters covering what’s going on in the Asia Pacific region, are accused of ignoring the concerns of those people who aren’t part of the political system, or a member of its civil society.

When you’re somewhere like Tonga, doing it isn’t as easy as you might think.